A breeze touches me;
Birds sing and the sun is soft.
A power line hums.

It's a soft morning;
Shadows lie across the road.
A tree sways gently.

White puffs from the sky:
Seed pods fall swiftly downward
To the hard gray road.

Crumpled near the road
Rusty sign covered by green:
"This land is for sale".

Washer in the woods
Survived another winter.
Doesn't look so old.

In the sky one cloud.
It peeks through the tree branches.
A distant plane hums.